Alan World

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

There is a bit of upheaval in
my world lately. I am getting ready to put the house on the market. It was
supposed to be done last Saturday, but Mark and I haven't seen eye to eye on a
few points. This makes me nervous. When things don't go my way and arguments
ensue, I get nervous, and when I get nervous two things happen. One of the
things is that I break out in pimples. Right now I have a giant, painful, pimple
on my nose that rivals anything that I ever experienced in my teen years. Back then I often walked the halls of my high school looking like
Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer. Anyway, I also have a few pimples popping up on the rest
of my face. Luckily those are not as immense as the one saddling my nose. That
one is a real finger popper, although unlike my teen years, I will not do that.
Besides the pimples, my nervousness about selling this house has generated some
bizarre dreams. Dreams in which I am naked and not in the confines of my own
home. Two nights ago the dream was that I was out in my front garden naked. I was behind the six foot privacy fence, and that did allow
me some relief until the fence started falling away. I awoke finally when one
of my neighbors waved hello from across the street. Last night I had another
naked dream. This time I was in Chicago taking a taxi across town, up to
somebody's house. I remember that I had a big woolen scarf on because it was
cold and something else wrapped around me. It wasn't until I was inside the
house that I realized that I was really only wearing two woolen scarves and
neither of them covered anything important. That's when I woke up. I certainly
hope I get this whole house sale, home buying, moving thing over with quickly,
before I find myself naked and covered in pimples, wandering around
outside for real.

Monday, March 2, 2015

I remember when I first
started finding little piles of audio tape in a jumble on the streets and
sidewalks. At first I couldn't understand how the hell it had ended up there,
until the day the cassette deck in my car ate a tape. At first you try to save
it, you eject the cassette and gingerly try to dislodge the tape that's tangled
within the machine. If you're like me it doesn't take long before you become
enraged and start yanking on it until you end up with a useless pile on the car
floor. I assume all the tape I was running across was tossed from cars with
cheap cassette decks. Over time I noticed that there weren't any more piles of audio
tape along the street, but instead I was finding cracked and broken CDs. Now
even the CDs have largely disappeared as more and more people plug their
iphones into the car stereo. What I have started to come across along the
street, along the railroad tracks where we walk the dogs, and just today in the
church parking lot, is hair. Large clumps of long hair. What kind of trend is
this? Are people yanking their hair out in traffic and throwing it out the
window? I've been informed by Mark that it is probably hair extensions,
something black women use a lot. I've looked these clumps of hair over, and I'm
not even sure that it is real human hair. More like Yak hair, or maybe even
hair of the polyester. Assuming that Mark is correct and black women are losing
their hair extensions while driving, why is it I haven't seen a lot of bald
women driving around town?

Friday, February 27, 2015

If you don't know, I am
planning on moving to Chicago. Mark has known about this plan for a while, and
I have explained to him my reasons for what I am doing. Oh, and yes, I am
taking Mark with me. So yesterday I told
Mark that today I would be having a couple of real estate agents over so that I
could decide on who would get the listing of our house.

"So soon? That's a
little fast don't you think?"

Denial.

"You hate me, don't you.
Why are you doing this to me? I'm too skinny, I'll fucking freeze to death up
there. I hate you!"

Anger.

"How about if I give you
more money? I can afford to give you enough money so we could stay here."

Bargaining.

Silence.

Depression.

More silence.

Still depressed.

"Think about it Mark.
There is so much more to do in a real city. Theater, restaurants, culture, parks,
museums. You'll enjoy it, I guarantee it."

Still silent.

Continued depression, and
then.

"Can we go to Lollapalooza
if we move there?... Oh, and look here. This looks like a really cool show at the
Oriental Theater. I guess you're right, there are so many more things to do in
Chicago. And I can hang out with my friend Sam, and I love your family. Let's
look on line at some houses. What neighborhood do you want to live in?
Lakeview, Lincoln Park, Andersonville?"

Thursday, February 26, 2015

I watched this show on PBS last night (actually I DVR'd it), and found it to be very interesting. It is about a Swedish man who did a study on race relations in the United States back in the early 1940's. It is interesting to an American because he came here with no idea of what he would find. This was on the PBS show Independent Lens, and if you see it scheduled you might want to watch it. It is history, and it is what is happening to our country right now.

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

The 1938 Buick was the first
American automobile to have factory installed electronic turn signals. Before
the electronic turn signal came along, you signaled which way you would be
going by sticking your arm out the window of your car. Either straight out for
a left turn, or straight out with your forearm in an upright position to signal
a right turn. One problem with hand signals was that if you wanted to turn and
it was pouring rain, not only would you get moist, but the car behind you might
not see your signal. Other drivers could also be confused if you happened to be
the friendly type who was always waving at people. I actually had to use those
hand signals in my first car, a 1935 Studebaker, because it was not equipped
with any turn signals. Luckily, in modern times, an electronic turn signal is
considered integral to the auto. Unfortunately, the people of Florida cannot
deal with such a high tech concept such as moving a lever. The problem is that
almost nobody, and I mean like over ninety percent of the population of Florida, ever uses
the turn signal that was installed in their automobile. Not the natives, not
the people who moved here to get away from the cold, not the people who moved
here to get away from the dead bodies they left up north, not even the tourists
use a turn signal. I'm not sure why, or what they think that stick on the
steering column is for, but people seem confusedabout the whole concept. It's like one
big guessing game.Where the hell is grandpa going? Should I go, or is that
schmuck turning? It's very frustrating when you are trying to get through an
intersection. The funny thing is that it has got me using some old hand
signals again. Just not the ones they taught me in Driver's Ed.

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

My first recliner chair was
heated, dispensed refreshments, and was probably the most comfortable

place I
have ever sat in. That was sixty five years ago, and after only nine months my
mom kicked me out. I've been looking to recreate that experience ever since.
I've tried memory foam and even a water bed once, but nothing was quite like
the womb. Unfortunately, the best I can do in my adult years is the big fluffy
chair. I started with a fashionable recliner around thirty years ago. It fit my
butt, supported my back nicely, and looked good. Since then I've gone through
around five different chairs. Hours of watching television, snoozing in them,
and the damage caused by cats and dogs have taken their toll. The chair I have
now is disgusting. It is covered in dog drool and man sweat, and wedged deep
within its folds are a few pounds of chips, popcorn, and nut fragments. I do
like to snack while watching television. So once again it's time to find
another 'Big Fluffy Chair', but not until after we move. On the day we move out
of this house I will drag the old red chair out to the curb, where some garbage
picker will think he has scored big. And he will if he can dig those quarters
out of the cushions.

Chicago

Fort Lauderdale

A Peoples History of the United States

Translate

About Me

Alan World is in South Florida. I share my world with Mark my partner since 1997. I also share it with my outdoor cats, Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan, and my dogs, Chandler, the 80 pound mutt, and Bette, the miniature Schnauzer. I have lived here since 1989. Before that I lived in Chicago. I have been around since December 1949 when I was born into a family that eventually grew to eleven children, plus Mom(Lila) and Dad(Big Al).

Disclaimer

This blog is in no way to be considered as fact. It is my remembrances of things I think happened to me, and I often exaggerate for comedic effect. The worst thing you could do, is take these stories too seriously.Please feel free to comment, good or bad.(Unless you are going to be a pest)